Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
One cold night in Bucharest, I got my chance.
Misha told me he’d uncovered the final piece of the puzzle, located within the grip of a rival gang. We’d need to be quick. We’d need to be strong.
“Are you afraid?” Misha asked me.
“No,” I lied through gritted teeth.
“Good,” he said. “Fear will only lead to your demise.”
The gang had set up their base in an old chateau. The stone structure was imposing as hell and full of foreboding darkness.
As we moved through the corridors, our footsteps muffled by the worn-out rugs, my heart pounded. The echoes of raucous laughter and clinking glasses reached us, growing louder with each step we took. Misha led the way. He was in his element. Danger was his drug.
Until he turned on me.
To this day I don’t know why. Maybe because I presented a challenge to him. Maybe he decided he wanted all the loot for himself. Or maybe he was just batshit crazy.
But that night, I did something I swore I’d never do.
I took a life.
It was self-defense, but I still had to move quickly and quietly to avoid being caught.
I learned to travel during the night. Change my identity and appearance when necessary.
And I was done with crime.
Done.
Until now, of course.
If everything went according to my plan, Puzo should be dead.
He was a piece of shit, and the world won’t mourn him.
But doing my grandfather’s bidding doesn’t give me the revenge I crave.
The vengeful vice I’ve been carrying around with me since that fateful day in his office, where he violated me in the worst way while I refused to scream out in pain.
Because fuck him.
Fuck him and fuck the world that allowed him to exist. I left that life behind, buried it deep under layers of pseudonyms, fake passports, and never-ending roads. But the ghosts were always there, whispering in my ear, reminding me of all that had been taken from me.
I existed in the shadows, a phantom flitting through Europe. I eked out a living doing odd jobs, never staying in one place for too long. As long as I remained a ghost, I was safe.
But I’m back now.
And I’ll have my revenge.
I regard Raven. She’s sleeping soundly.
It kills me to leave her, but she has no place in the world I have to inhabit.
I can’t shake the anger coursing through my veins. Every time I close my eyes, I see Misha’s face, smirking, laughing as he turned on me.
He’s not laughing now.
Grandfather thinks I’m weak. Too weak to take Puzo out with a gun he provided.
That doesn’t make me weak. It makes me smart.
Grandfather doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. But he will soon enough.
Vengeance isn’t just a fleeting thought for me. It’s my driving force, my vice. It consumes me, and I welcome it.
Every step I take is fueled by the need to make Grandfather pay. I’ve lost so much because of him, and now it’s my turn to take something. It won’t bring back what I’ve lost, but it will satisfy this burning need inside me. He thinks he’s untouchable, but his arrogance will be his downfall.
I’m a storm ready to unleash hell. He won’t see it coming until it’s too late. I’ll be his reckoning. I’ll be his nightmare. And when it’s done, maybe then I’ll find some peace.
Or maybe this vengeful vice will have consumed me completely, and there will be nothing left but the ashes of my own destruction.
But until then I will be relentless. Nothing will stand in my way. They will regret the day they crossed me. This isn’t just a promise. It’s my reality, my unyielding obsession.
I didn’t mean to fall in love.
I didn’t mean to drag an innocent woman into my underworld.
I press my lips to Raven’s soft cheek.
Then I rise from the bed, dress quietly, and leave.
Never to see her again.
33
RAVEN
I’m sitting in the doctor’s office. For weeks now I haven’t felt like myself.
It started with headaches. The first one occurred after I had imbibed in a few extra drinks at dinner the night before, so I thought it was just a mild hangover. A couple of Advil and it went away. But then they kept coming back. More often than normal.
Then the fatigue. I used to be quite the night owl, often staying up until two or three in the morning. Now I’m lucky to make it past nine thirty. But I’m in my late twenties. Didn’t seem too weird that I’d start prioritizing sleep more.
Then the pain in my joints, which I assumed was a result of me exercising too hard. Then the weight loss—did I change my diet without realizing it? Of course, I haven’t had much of an appetite lately, so that could be it.
There’s been a rational explanation behind every symptom I’ve experienced.
I made the mistake of mentioning it to my mom, and she of course went straight to Dr. Google. She found all sorts of debilitating diseases I could have, ranging from Lou Gehrig’s disease to multiple sclerosis.